


Trigger

by Shearmouth



Series: (Beats back Writer's Block with a Stick) Whumptober 2020! [3]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: (kinda), Eddie Diaz Needs a Hug (9-1-1 TV), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guns, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), War, Whumptober 2020, and he gets one, pre-Buddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26804719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shearmouth/pseuds/Shearmouth
Summary: For Whumptober Day 3: Held at GunpointAfter the Lola Incident, Eddie's acting off. Buck's not letting him leave until he tells him why.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: (Beats back Writer's Block with a Stick) Whumptober 2020! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947829
Comments: 13
Kudos: 88
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Trigger

**Author's Note:**

> This has been floating around in my noggin for a while, and this prompt yoinked it out. Takes place after "Buck, Actually" in Season 2. I wrote this at like midnight two weeks ago so it's a bit messy but idc here ya go :D

Buck didn’t even notice until they were almost back to the station. 

The 118 was homebound, the freeway ran smoothly once more, and Lola was headed for a romantic getaway in jail. The whole thing was insane, yet Buck couldn’t help but feel warm inside from Norman’s speech. Yeah, fine, he was a hopeless romantic, and it said something about the pathetic state of his love life that a streaker on an overpass reconnecting with her husband was making him mushy. He loved love. Sue him. No one got hurt, and at the end of the day, the crazy display was kinda cute.

So yeah, he was caught up in his feels, and so it took Buck a minute to realize that Eddie was abnormally quiet next to him.

Buck looked over and frowned. His partner was hunched on the bench seat, elbows propped his knees and hands locked together as if in prayer. Sweaty strands of hair fell into his face. Normally on the way back from a call they would all exchange notes, sometimes strategizing about similar future scenarios, but mostly they just snort-laughed about whatever influencer had gotten his ass stuck in an oven that day. Hen and Chim were chatting away as normal, but Eddie hadn’t said a word since they left the scene. Buck frowned, brow furrowing in concern.

He nudged Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie looked up, still locked up. His eyes were oddly bright.

“You okay?” Buck asked softly.

Eddie’s throat worked. He skimmed Buck’s eyes without meeting them. “I’m fine.”

He was clearly not fine, but Buck wasn’t about to push it in the back of the ladder truck. He shifted closer so his leg and shoulder pressed into Eddie’s, and it may have just been his imagination, but Eddie seemed to lean back into him even as he lowered his head.

They’d just run a night, so by the time they returned to the station the midmorning shift change had already begun. Buck followed Eddie into the showers, thankful that Chim and the other guys on their shift had decided to head straight home. His footfalls echoed in the empty room.

Eddie was trying really hard to act normal. Taking off uniform shirt– normal. Retrieving shower kit– normal. By all accounts nothing was wrong.

Buck wasn’t buying it. He’d only known Eddie a few months, but they had become fast friends in a way Buck….well, Buck didn’t know you _could_ have a friend like that. He knew Eddie’s tells like he knew the language of smoke. Every shift and shade of motion meant something underneath it all had changed.

The rippling tension radiating through Eddie’s body was unfamiliar. He looked rattled in a way Buck had never seen before, not even during the earthquake.

Buck perched carefully on the end of the bench on which Eddie sat, unlacing his boots.

“Hey,” Buck murmured.

“Hey,” Eddie replied, not looking up.

“Eddie.”

“You need something, Buck?”

Buck tapped his toe against the side of Eddie’s shoe. Those powerful hands went still.

“Eddie,” Buck said again, pitching his voice low and soft. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie’s jaw clenched. “Nothing. I’m fine.” He went back to undoing his laces.

Now this Eddie, this one Buck knew. He’d never known a friend as true as Eddie, but he’d also never met a more stubborn motherfucker in his life. The man could freaking suppress. Luckily, he’d learned that dialect of Eddie as well, the paths around his proud, prickly defenses.

Buck was a hopeless romantic, yes. He was also a serial cuddler. And as a few rough shifts and beer-buzzed pizza nights had proved, Eddie was a touch-starved son of a bitch. Just a gentle hand on the shoulder could reduce him to a puddle of goo like some nubile Victorian maiden. It was his cheat code, known only to a precious few.

So Buck shifted along the bench until his knee knocked into Eddie’s. He cupped Eddie’s wrists and slowly coaxed him upright. Eddie stared at him, a hunted look in his eyes.

“C’mon, Eds, what’s wrong? You’ve been off since that last call.”

Eddie bit his lip. “I told you, it’s nothing.”

“Eddie,” Buck deadpanned, “I drank half your bourbon and puked in your kitchen sink last week. You really think I’m gonna judge you?”

Eddie looked like he wanted to bolt. “It’s– it’s not that. Seriously Buck, I’m fine, just go home.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Buck tightened his grip on Eddie’s wrists. “I know you, dude. You’re going to go home and sleep for four hours until it’s time to pick Chris up from school. You’re gonna help him with homework and make dinner and put him to bed and get up to do the whole thing over tomorrow like the kickass dad you are, but nowhere in there are you going to be able to talk to someone about what’s on your mind.” Buck tilted his head to catch Eddie’s eye. They were redder than before. He shifted closer until he was flush against Eddie’s side, lending him warmth and something to lean on.

Eddie’s face contorted. He slowly began to relax against Buck. The tension poured out of him, leaving him looking wrung out.

“When she had that gun on you…” Eddie swallowed. “It scared the shit out of me. I thought she was going to shoot you. I thought, ‘It’s happening again, I’m about to watch my friend die in front of me and I can’t do jack shit about it.’” He sniffled and ducked his head, averting his eyes.

Buck wanted to cry.

Of course. Of course, no fucking shit– Eddie was a combat veteran. Silver goddamn Star and everything. And while his partner never directly talked about his time overseas, Buck had fit together the available pieces. They didn’t make a nice picture.

A few years stateside, an ocean between him and a warzone, and Eddie had thought he was going to watch his colleague get gunned down on what should’ve been a regular call.

Buck couldn’t imagine. He couldn’t even speak.

He tugged on Eddie’s wrists until he turned toward Buck. Buck moved slowly, giving Eddie an out, but his partner just sat there silently. Buck reeled him in, embracing him and dropping his forehead onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Buck murmured. “I’m okay. It’s okay, Eddie.”

For a few long heartbeats, Eddie didn’t move. Then a shaky breath punched out of him, and he grabbed onto Buck like he expected him to disappear. Buck clung back just as tightly, determined to anchor Eddie to the present, to remind him that he was safe now.

“You’re okay,” Buck murmured again. “We’re okay, Eddie.”

Eddie shuddered against him, but he still whispered back, “Yeah. We’re okay.”


End file.
